Moscow Rules
by PsandQs
Summary: Written pre season 10. I used the information provided in the season 10 press release, Harry's Diary and the Personnel Files to come up with this. As a result some of the names and characters won't quite be the same. The Russians know a dark secret about Harry's past and tries to use it to force him into doing their bidding. The HS suspects something and asks Ruth to spy on Harry.
1. Chapter 1

_Monday, 4 April 2011  
London, JIC Headquarters  
Inquiry into Sir Harry Pearce_

It was the second week of the Inquiry. It was being held in a cheerless, windowless room at JIC Headquarters, a room that turned stuffy within minutes of the start of proceedings each day. Or maybe, Harry reflected sourly, it was only he that experienced it as such. He was the man on the spot, after all, being grilled with the proverbial blinding light shone in his eyes. Although it was all done according to the letter of the law, painfully procedurally correct, he was well aware that there was scant goodwill towards him in that room. Only the Home Secretary spared him the occasional sympathetic smile; the other Intelligence and Foreign Office bigwigs spared him nothing at all. He wondered, in an idle moment, why they despised him so, before deciding that he didn't care. In the end, all that mattered was that he should be able to live with himself, live with everything that he had done. And of course, although he liked to pretend otherwise, it mattered what _she _thought of him, after all was said and done. It pained him, as he sat facing his inquisitors calmly, that he was no longer sure of her regard after all they had been through.

The first two days had been spent going over the events surrounding the Albany file, and Harry was reasonably confident that he'd won that round. It soon became evident, though, that this did not really matter in the greater scheme of things; that Albany was merely an excuse to tear apart his career, operation by operation. The rest of the first week was spent analysing every action and decision that he had made during his time in Belfast. At times Harry felt that they were questioning his every thought as well, as though they suspected him of harbouring secret socialist or terrorist tendencies that even he was not aware of. He, in turn, sought refuge in facts, and in answering only to the letter of what was asked. No information would be volunteered, no matter how trivial or how important. It was his one act of defiance against these proceedings.

That Monday morning, the questions finally moved on to his time with MI6, and the events of Operation Omega. They were smelling blood; Harry could practically touch the current of suppressed excitement running through the room. Richard Dolby took it upon himself, as JIC Chairman, to provide all the lurid details of that black operation to the Inquiry. He sketched in detail how Harry had staged terrorist attacks in Cologne and framed the Red Army Faction for it, all in an attempt to force the German authorities to adopt a harder line against far-left organisations. The ultimate aim was to prevent the Stasi from gaining a foothold in West Germany through these groups.  
"Unfortunately," Dolby stated with undisguised satisfaction, "the operation had disastrous consequences." He enjoyed the moment before continuing, "Why don't you tell us in your own words what happened on 6 November 1979, Harry?"

_6 November 1979  
Cologne  
12:54_

They were parked a safe distance down the street. The front of the hotel was visible from their vantage point, and they watched as the West German Minister for the Interior, Thomas Bergen, came through the door and walked towards his car parked out front.  
"Oh Christ," Price, one of the Army explosives experts Harry had been using exclaimed, "we've got to warn him!"  
He flung open his car door, but by the time he was on the pavement Harry was in front of him and wrestled him back.  
"There's no time! Get back in the car now!"  
He'd barely finished speaking when the Minister's car exploded behind him, killing Bergen instantly. They froze, and watched in fascinated horror as the fireball reached for the sky.  
"Oh no, oh no," Price repeated over and over. He grabbed at Harry and shook him roughly. "He was supposed to use the car at the back of the hotel, not the decoy out front. You said he would use the other one!" There was a wild look in his eyes as he stared at Harry.  
The spook shoved him against the car, hard. "Get back in the car. That's an order!" Harry's tone brooked no opposition and the soldier instinctively obeyed.

It was then that Harry looked up and saw the couple standing a few feet away, watching them with wide eyes. The woman was a few months pregnant, he noticed in a haze before getting in the car and driving away calmly. As soon as they turned the corner he pulled to the kerb, and the two soldiers looked at him questioningly.  
"Take the car, get away from here," Harry ordered before getting out. The other explosives expert, Roupell, slid behind the wheel without question, and the car drove off, leaving the young spook standing on the pavement. He waited until the car was out of sight, before walking back towards the hotel. The couple was moving along the other side of the street. Harry followed.

Harry recounted the incident precisely, factually. He did not mention the couple.  
"Our information was wrong," he concluded in the shocked silence that followed. "A source told us that Bergen would use the car at the back of the hotel. Perhaps he intended to and changed his mind at the last moment. I don't know. But since the explosives were on timers and not remote detonators, there was nothing to be done."  
Dolby gave Harry a long, hard look. "Is there anything else pertaining to this incident we should know?"  
Harry met his look squarely. "Nothing," he said evenly.

_He followed the couple to the train station, and onto the train to Berlin. He slipped into the seat behind them unseen and listened to them discussing what they'd seen and heard. The man said to the pregnant woman, "We have to report this, tonight. We can give a good description of the man that stopped the other one from warning the Minister. He sounded like an Englishman."  
When he heard that, he knew that he had no choice._

It was dark when the train pulled into Berlin station. Harry followed the couple out onto the street, staying close. He would have to take the first chance he got; he could not allow them to report what they knew. Luckily they chose to walk towards the Wall, turning towards Oberbaumbrücke. The streets close to the Wall would be deserted that time of night. Harry trailed them, his palms sweating. The gun holster pressed accusingly against the small of his back. The couple entered the Turkish Quarter and turned into a dark side street, and he saw his chance. He picked up his pace and passed them at a brisk walk. Once he was in front of them, he turned suddenly, pulling the gun and pointing it at the man in one smooth motion. His target barely had time to register shock before Harry shot him cleanly through the heart, and he crumpled to the ground without a sound. The woman was opening her mouth to scream when he swung the gun towards her. He wavered for a fraction of a second before he pulled the trigger again. She was dead before she collapsed, her body coming to rest against that of the man.

Harry turned and walked away at a normal pace, tucking the gun back into its holster. He did not look back until he rounded the corner and disappeared into the darkness. Only once he was well away from the scene, did his steps falter and he stumbled, falling onto his knees and throwing up violently. All he could see in his mind's eye was Jane, expecting their first child.

Dolby watched Harry with narrowed eyes, looking for the slightest indication that the man was concealing something.  
"There's nothing else that happened after Bergen was killed?"  
Harry did not flinch. "No. Operation Omega was abandoned and I was recalled to London."  
"No one ever found out?" Dolby pressed.  
"No," Harry responded without hesitation.  
Dolby nodded his head, confident that he would have noticed if Harry was lying. The Inquiry adjourned for the day.

Harry went home, feeling exhausted and alone. The first thing he did was pour a stiff drink and down it in one, before refilling the glass and sinking into a chair. He stared at a photograph of his children on the table beside him for long seconds, then dropped his head into his hands and let the shame wash over him.

- 0 -

_Thursday, 7 April 2011  
Moscow, FSB Headquarters_

Elena Polyakova was slogging through paperwork when her deputy came through the door and sat down in the chair before her desk.  
"We've had a lucky break. One of our low level UK assets in the Foreign Office managed to get his hands on some of the transcripts of the Inquiry into Harry Pearce."  
Elena looked up. "Harry Pearce… He's the senior MI5 man accused of giving some or other state secret to the Chinese, right?"  
The deputy nodded and Elena leaned back in her chair, lighting a cigarette. "Hmm. Anything interesting in the transcripts?"  
"Not much," the deputy responded with a shrug. "Our man got hold of one day's transcripts, and that day they only discussed a black op Pearce was running in Germany in the seventies. Old news," he concluded, not noticing the sudden spark of interest in his superior's eyes.  
"Leave it with me. I'll read through it when I have time." She dismissed him with a wave of the cigarette.

Once she was alone she opened the folder and read through it slowly, with complete concentration. She noted the date of the event discussed in most detail, 6 November 1979, and felt a frisson of excitement. Elena turned to her computer and called up the Stasi files for that date. She soon found what she was looking for: the reports on the unexplained deaths of two German citizens, shot dead in Berlin on the same date. One after one, she scrolled through the photographs attached to the reports, until she found the one she was looking for. Next she called up the photos of known British Intelligence officers, finding Harry Pearce's near the top of the list. She sat, staring at the two photographs, until the cigarette burnt down to her fingers and brought her back to the present. Impatiently she stubbed it out in the overflowing ashtray, before turning her attention to Harry Pearce's photo again.  
"Got you," she said softly.

- 0 -

_Tuesday, 12 April 2011  
London, JIC Headquarters_

There was a change in the atmosphere; Harry could sense it as soon as he entered the room. What he couldn't tell was whether this was good or bad news for him, until he noticed the triumphant expression on William Towers' face. Harry was barely seated before Dolby addressed him, his face a picture of ill concealed hostility.  
"Harry, it has been decided to postpone these proceedings until after the Royal wedding. A number of terrorist threats have been made against the event in the last few days, and it was decided that we can't afford any distractions at this time. You are to continue in your post until after the wedding, when your suspension will resume."  
Although Dolby refused to state it explicitly, the implication was clear: they needed Harry's expertise to handle the security for the Royal wedding. Harry looked at the Home Secretary, who smiled with satisfaction.  
Dolby continued, "However, in light of the fact that your last choice for Section Chief turned out to be such a disaster, the new one will be appointed from above."  
As he opened his mouth to argue Harry caught the warning look Towers was giving him, and swallowed his objection. He would live to fight another day, so he nodded mutely.

- 0 -

_Same day, afternoon  
London, Thames House_

Dimitri was the first to notice him coming through the doors.  
"Harry!" he exclaimed, coming over to shake his boss' hand enthusiastically.  
"It's great to have you back. You've been cleared, I take it?"  
Over his shoulder, Harry watched as Ruth approached with a folder clutched in her arms, eager to hear Harry's answer.  
"No. A temporary reprieve. Apparently many terrorists are now also anti-royalists." His eyes remained on Ruth, and he saw a smile flicker briefly across her face.  
By this time Beth and Tariq had also gathered around him. He looked at his depleted team, feeling an uncharacteristic desire to tell them how glad he was to see them again. In the end, though, decorum won out.  
"Why don't we go to the meeting room and you can bring me up to date on the threats against the wedding?"

After Ruth's briefing, Harry frowned to himself. In his opinion there was only one credible threat. With a slight smile, he said nothing, glancing sideways at Ruth. She held his gaze for a moment before continuing, "There is also another issue. The Home Office has decreed that we must develop closer relations with the FSB. Apparently they are going to help us solve the problems in the Middle East. In aid of this, an FSB delegation will be arriving tomorrow. These are the delegates."  
She went through the list methodically, listing which persons were most likely to be of interest or a particular threat to them. When she got to Elena Polyakova she sensed Harry's attention sharpen immediately, although he hid it well. He didn't add anything to her briefing, and she resolved to ask him about it later. By the time she finished he was deep in thought.  
"That's it," she concluded.  
Harry nodded. "Thank you all. Ruth, a word in my office?"

He closed the door behind her before taking himself behind the desk.  
"You made up most of those threats," he stated without preamble.  
Ruth considered. "'Made up' is putting it a bit strong. I may have exaggerated them somewhat."  
They smiled at each other knowingly before Harry sobered. "I appreciate it, but you should not be under any illusions that this is anything other than a temporary reprieve."  
He thought back over the last few weeks and added, "They want me out, Ruth. Nothing will change that."  
The note of defeat in his voice was indisguisable, and it broke Ruth's heart. "Harry-"  
"You should know that they're forcing a new Section Chief on me," he changed the subject, unwilling to discuss his uncertain future any further. "I'm sure she'll be tasked with reporting back on my every move. Be careful around her, yes?"  
Ruth's response was interrupted by a knock on the door.

Beth poked her head around it. "Harry, can I talk to you?" The shadows behind her eyes were quite evident, and Harry had an inkling what this was about. Wordlessly he acquiesced, before turning back to Ruth. "Thank you, Ruth. You'll let me know when the new Section Chief arrives?"

Once they were alone, his eyes settled on Beth. Despite the understanding she saw there, she fidgeted uncomfortably before gathering the courage to speak.  
"I want to leave the Service."  
Harry let the silence stretch for a few seconds before responding, "I'm truly sorry to hear that. This is about Lucas, I take it?"  
She nodded. "I don't think I'm cut out for this work, Harry."  
He studied her sympathetically. "I think you're wrong, for what it's worth. But you can't be here if you're not sure whether you want to do this job. It asks too much of us to allow for such uncertainty."  
He placed both his hands on the desk and folded them, giving her a chance to process what he'd said. Hoping that perhaps she would change her mind. But when she spoke again, her voice was steady, certain. "I know, and I can't do it. I'm not prepared to lose myself to it."  
He closed his eyes for a brief moment, before nodding and smiling at her. "Fair enough. I'll see that the necessary paperwork gets done. Consider yourself decommissioned with immediate effect."  
"Thank you, Harry. Not only for this. For giving me a chance in the first place." She got up to leave.  
"Beth."  
She turned back.  
"Good luck."  
With a final smile, she was gone.

Harry sat quietly for a moment before sighing deeply and dragging the file on the Russian delegation towards him. He opened it to the particulars of Elena Polyakova and studied the information intently. Once he was done he got up and paced his office, deep in thought. The Russians knew what he had done in 1979. That could be the only explanation for her inclusion in the delegation. His eyes drifted to Ruth's station and he observed her working for a few moments, before coming to a decision. Picking up the phone, he called a very private number.  
"I have to see you. Alone."

_Same day, midnight  
Undisclosed location_

The two men walked along the deserted beach, their torches the only specks of light visible. They walked for more than an hour, talking intensely in low voices. The other man left first, the sound of his car dying away, leaving only the hiss of the waves behind. Harry stood alone in the dark, hunching his shoulders against the bite in the air, thinking about what he had just set in motion, and what he was likely to lose because of it. He wiped a hand over his face, before turning and trudging back to his own car.

_tbc_


	2. Chapter 2

_Wednesday, 13 April 2011  
London, Thames House_

The Grid was quiet this early in the morning. Since Harry had been suspended, Ruth was normally the only one there at that hour. After starting her computer she went into the kitchenette and made herself a cup of tea, pondering the events of the previous day. Her initial delight that her plan to exaggerate the threat to the Royal wedding had worked had abated, and instead a feeling of unease had settled in the pit of her stomach. Something was off about Harry. She had pondered it all night, twisting and turning in a vain attempt to find sleep. He'd been fine when he'd got back to the Grid at first, she was certain of it. There had been an unmistakable warmth in his eyes when he'd gazed at her, but by the time they had spoken in his office it had dimmed. There had been no evidence of it whatsoever as they went home; in fact he had brushed off her attempt to have a private moment, his manner cordial but aloof. She suspected it had something to do with Elena Polyakova. But was it professional or personal?

The doors opened and the man himself stepped onto the Grid. He didn't notice her hovering in the door of the kitchenette, affording her time to observe him closely. He looked tired and despondent. As the doors closed behind him Harry stood immobile for a few seconds, his eyes sweeping over the familiar workspace as an expression of regret, almost self-loathing, flashed across his face and he moved towards his office with long strides. Ruth turned back into the kitchenette and made him a cup of coffee. As she walked around to the door of his office she could see him seated at his desk, rubbing his forehead with one hand, his shoulders slumped. In lieu of knocking she cleared her throat before entering, and he jerked his head up at the noise.

"Morning," she said, placing the coffee on the corner of his desk before taking a step back and folding both her hands around her teacup.  
Harry stared at the coffee, seemingly unable to move or speak, before coming out of his trance and reaching out a hand for it.  
"Thanks," he said almost inaudibly, not looking at her.  
His attitude increased her concern and she studied him. He looked even worse close up; he seemed to be exhausted and drained.  
"You okay?" she queried carefully, uncertain of the parameters of their relationship after the events of Albany.  
His eyes met hers fleetingly before settling back on the coffee. "Fine. Bit of a hangover. Nothing to worry about." He mustered a smile to reassure her but it was scarcely worth the name. Ruth doubted whether he really had a hangover; his eyes were clear and focussed.  
"Harry-"  
"Thank you Ruth, that'll be all." His tone was dismissive and she took another step back, staring at him. He refused to look at her and she finally turned and left without a word. When she glanced back he had buried his face in both hands, his elbows propped on the desk. Something was terribly wrong.

An hour later a slender, dark haired woman stepped through the doors. Ruth immediately recognised her as Erin Watts, the new Section Chief. As she moved forward to greet the new arrival, the woman's attention focussed on her, weighing her up against some unknown standard.  
"Hi. I'm Ruth. Evershed. I'm the senior analyst."  
A light of recognition went on in the other woman's eyes, and she studied Ruth with renewed interest. Clearly she had been informed about the events of Albany.  
"So you're Ruth," Erin responded, wondering how _this_ woman could have ensnared the mighty Harry Pearce. She didn't offer a hand. "Erin Watts, your new boss."  
Her attitude did not impress Ruth, who reacted sharply before she could stop herself. "No, that would be Harry Pearce. _He's_ the boss around here."  
"Not for much longer, from what I hear," the other woman said off-handedly as her attention shifted to the people behind Ruth. Biting back her retort, Ruth began to walk off. "His office is this way."

This time she knocked and waited for him to call "Come!" before opening the door.  
"Harry, Erin Watts has arrived."  
She stepped aside and allowed the other woman to enter, noting how Erin looked around the office as though mentally redecorating it already. Ruth glared at Erin's back before realising that Harry's eyes were on her, and for a split-second it felt like the old Harry as she spotted a hint of amusement in his gaze. He nodded at her and she left, closing the door behind her.

After swiftly appraising his new Section Chief, Harry stood and offered his hand. "Harry Pearce. Have a seat."  
Erin arranged herself in the chair and watched him coolly. Harry returned the favour.  
"Let's not dance around each other, shall we? We both know that you will report back to Richard Dolby on everything I do. Let me make it clear from the start that I couldn't care less about that. We are here to do a job, and that must always come first. Those people out there," he gestured to the team going about their business out on the Grid, "are loyal, brilliant and dedicated-"  
"Please," Erin muttered with a roll of the eyes.

There was a charged silence.  
"What did you say?" Harry's voice was low and dangerous.  
Erin looked at him contemptuously. "_Those people_ didn't notice that they had a traitor in their midst, and they let _you_ give away a state secret to save your girlfriend. They aren't all that brilliant-"  
She petered out as Harry was suddenly out of his chair and right in front of her.  
"Stand up," he commanded icily, and Erin obeyed wordlessly, shaken by the cold fury in his eyes.  
"Listen to me carefully, you arrogant bitch. You are free to despise me at your leisure, but you will treat those people with the respect they deserve. Do not for one moment think that you are in charge here, despite what Dolby may have whispered in your ear. I am your boss, and you _will_ follow my orders, is that clear?"  
Not once did he raise his voice, but Erin had seldom heard such menace as there was behind his calm tones. She nodded almost involuntarily.  
Harry continued mercilessly. "You will do well to remember that your life may at some stage depend on your colleagues. If you treat them with disdain, they may not be so quick to risk themselves to save you. It is your responsibility to forge them into a team. Perhaps your focus should be on that, rather than to wait for the buzzards to remove me so you can have my office. If you don't, you may not survive long enough to experience that happy occurrence."  
With a final stare, he turned on his heel. "I'll introduce you to the rest of the team now."  
Erin followed him out, no longer confident that she was as in control of the situation as she would have liked to be.

Harry introduced her to everyone, not giving any indication of the altercation they'd just had, before handing her off to HR to get all her transfer papers sorted out. As he disappeared back into his office, Dimitri turned to Ruth.  
"She looks like she could be trouble. We'll have to watch Harry's back."  
Irritated, Ruth replied shortly, "Don't get caught up in office politics. Our job is to protect the country from terrorists, we should be careful not to get distracted by the side shows."  
Dimitri stared at her, confusion showing on his face. "Why are you so hard on him?"  
"What?" Ruth was brought up short by the question. "What do you mean?"  
"I mean, Ruth, that you're trying so hard not to let Harry in that you're busting his balls and setting impossible standards. He's damned whatever he does in your eyes. Well, I think he's had a bloody difficult time of late and I don't see anything wrong in looking out for him."  
The younger officer strode away, leaving a bemused Ruth behind. She hadn't intended to imply that they shouldn't look out for Harry, but clearly her actions of late led Dimitri to interpret it that way. With a heavy heart she sat down at her station, wondering whether Harry had the same impression as Dimitri.

- 0 -

That afternoon the Russians swept into town. The initial meet and greet was held in one of the downstairs conference rooms after Harry point blank refused to have the FSB delegation on the Grid before they'd been properly screened. Ruth kept a close eye on him, but he showed no visible reaction to being introduced to Elena Polyakova, the Head of the FSB delegation. She was an impressive and striking woman who bemoaned the No Smoking rules inside the building. If she expected Harry to relax the rules for her she was left disappointed, as he bluntly stated that those were the rules and she should live with it. Ruth was not able to discern whether his short manner had anything to do with the woman personally, or whether it was a result of his general distrust of the FSB.

As soon as good manners would allow, Harry extracted himself from the meeting, leaving Erin to look after the interests of the Russians, with the help of Dimitri. Before he reached the door, however, Elena intercepted him.  
"Sir Harry. I would like a word in private."  
Harry closed his eyes momentarily before trying to brush past her. "I'm sorry, but I'm rather busy at the moment. Perhaps later in the week-"  
"No. Tonight. Believe me when I tell you it will be in your best interests to do so."  
She deftly dropped a scrap of paper into his jacket pocket. "Nine o'clock at that address. Come alone."  
He nodded once, resigned to his fate, before she rejoined her delegation and left him to slowly walk out of the room.  
Ruth's interest in the exchange went unnoticed by both.

- 0 -

_21:00_

The _Babushka_ restaurant was in a less salubrious part of the city. Harry also happened to know that it was owned by the Russian mafia, who used it for their business meetings and to launder money. It was a masterstroke on the part of Polyakova to choose this place for their meeting, as the mafia regularly swept it for bugs and their security would make it impossible for anyone to follow them in there and eavesdrop. He stood in the shadows across the road from the entrance, watching the comings and goings for a while, wondering whether he would come out of this alive. With a final deep breath he crossed the street and approached the burly man on the door.  
"I'm to meet a friend. Elena." As he spoke, his eyes continued to roam up and down the street. Had he seen that woman entering the pub two doors down before? He was almost certain that he had, but before he could get a clear view of her he was ushered in and escorted to a private room in the back.

To his relief, Elena was alone. She took a drag from her cigarette as he entered and watched him through the smoke, pointing to the chair opposite her. A chilled bottle of vodka stood on the table and she filled his glass before refilling her own. Without hesitation she threw back the alcohol, Harry presumed as a gesture of faith that the vodka wasn't poisoned. He followed suit, more out of a desire to quell the hollow feeling in his stomach than propriety. The Russian woman refilled the glasses and stubbed out her cigarette before speaking.  
"You will do us a favour." It was a statement and most definitely not a request.  
Harry stared at her. How much did she know? He went fishing.  
"No, I don't think so. What possible incentive would I have?"  
She laughed. It was not a pleasant sound, and her eyes remained hard and watchful.  
"They told me you would be difficult. Do you know what it says on your file at the FSB? Loyal. Incorruptible."  
She laughed again. "I have always enjoyed a challenge."

"You haven't answered my question," Harry replied evenly, ignoring the second glass of vodka.  
"This is true." She paused for dramatic effect, then played her card. "We know what you did in Cologne in 1979. On 6 November, to be precise."  
He concentrated on his breathing, careful not to react to her statement in any way.  
"What did I supposedly do?"  
"You killed the West German Minister for the Interior. Blew up his car."  
Harry said nothing, so she continued. "We will keep this information to ourselves, but in return you will do us a favour."  
"What favour?" he asked, his eyes never leaving hers.  
She smiled. "At your Royal wedding, you will kill President Medvedev for us."

It took a few seconds for Harry to process what she'd said. He shook his head slowly in disbelief.  
"You're out of your mind. I will not assassinate your President for you, and I will definitely not do it at the Royal wedding."  
He stood up. "You're too late, Elena. Our leaders already know everything about the Cologne bombing. You can't blackmail me with that."  
She let him get halfway to the door before she spoke again.  
"But they don't know about the German couple you shot in cold blood that same night in Berlin, do they?"  
Harry froze, and his world began to unravel around him.  
Elena noticed his discomfort and pressed home her advantage. "Tsk, Harry. You neglected to tell them about that in your Inquiry. Now why is that, I wonder?"  
When he didn't move, didn't speak, she said sharply, "Sit down, please."  
Numbly he moved back to the table and sank onto the chair. All colour had drained from his face. It gave Elena immense satisfaction to see him so shaken.  
"Shall I tell you what I think? You didn't tell them because you did it to save your own skin. You shot a pregnant woman and her husband, innocent civilians, so they wouldn't tell the police what you'd done."

To have it spelt out to him so starkly nearly destroyed Harry. Suddenly he was back on that dark street, making the choice to kill two people. _To kill a pregnant woman_. He tried desperately to think of something to get him out of that room.  
"You're guessing. You have no evidence," he offered weakly.  
There was a glint of euphoria in Elena's eyes as she pushed an envelope across the table towards him. When he didn't reach for it, she invited, "Take a look."  
Reluctantly he picked it up and shook two photographs from it. He stared at them in a daze, the edges of his vision darkening as his head swam and nausea rose up in his stomach.  
_Oh dear God_…

"This is your choice, Harry. Refuse to do what we ask and we will tell the world what you did. Your own people will be so disgusted by your actions that they will deliver you to the Germans, who are anxious to have justice for their citizens. Your name and your precious reputation will be destroyed, and you will spend the rest of your life in jail. Or do this one thing for us and no-one need ever know about your past."  
Harry sat motionless, staring at the photographs. All he could see was the revulsion on Ruth's face if she should find out about this. He took a deep breath.

- 0 -

_Thursday, 14 April 2011  
London, the Grid_

Harry was uncharacteristically late that morning. Ruth ran a discreet eye over him as he stepped through the doors, and thought he looked even worse than the previous day. This time he actually did look like he was suffering from a hangover, with a pallor to his skin and bloodshot eyes. He went straight into his office and closed the door firmly behind him. She was about to follow when her mobile rang.  
"Miss Evershed, this is William Towers. Do not acknowledge, in fact do not let anyone know that you're talking to me, especially not Harry."  
"Hello, yes I understand," Ruth replied, trying to keep her growing alarm out of her voice.  
"Good. I need to see you as soon as humanly possible. Come to my office."  
She knew better than to ask what this was about. "Okay, I'm on my way," she answered instead.  
A final glance into Harry's office found him seated behind his desk, his eyes resting on her, and for some reason she found that look unsettling. She gave him a weak smile, then told Dimitri she was going to meet an asset, and walked quickly through the doors before anyone could question her further. She felt Harry's gaze burn into her back until she was out of sight.

When she arrived at the Home Secretary's office she was immediately shown in. Towers stood in front of the window, staring out at the garden. He was alone in the office and turned around at the sound of the door opening. Ruth was still taking in the furnishings when he approached her at a brisk pace. The look on his face left her in no doubt that this would not be good. After a curt greeting he came straight to the point.  
"We have a serious problem, Ruth. In fact, serious is an understatement. I'd say we're closer to calamitous."  
Ruth frowned. "Sir, if it's that serious, you need Harry, not me."  
Towers laughed, a short, disbelieving bark.  
"I never thought I'd say this, but Harry _is_ the problem."  
"I don't understand," Ruth said, not sure that she'd heard correctly.  
The Home Secretary covered his face with both hands, rubbing it hard, before looking back at Ruth. His next words made her world implode.  
"I have evidence that Harry has agreed to assassinate the Russian President, Dmitry Medvedev, at the Royal wedding."

_tbc_

Note: I have exercised artistic license by inviting the Russian President to the Royal Wedding. I am well aware that he didn't attend in real life.


	3. Chapter 3

_Thursday, 14 April 2011  
London, Home Secretary's office_

Ruth took a step back and felt the edge of a chair pressing against the back of her knees. Without waiting for permission she sat down, the last sentence on a loop in her head.  
_I have evidence that Harry has agreed to assassinate the Russian President, Dmitry Medvedev, at the Royal wedding._  
It couldn't be, and she began to shake her head even before she could get the words out of her mouth.  
"That's ridiculous. Harry would never- What evidence?"  
Towers walked to his desk and picked up a recorder.  
"Since the postponement of the Inquiry I have had Harry under surveillance."  
Noting the flash of anger in Ruth's eyes, he smiled sardonically. "Ironically I did it for his protection. I suspected that Dolby and his cohorts might try something. The woman, Erin Watts, has been put in your section at Dolby's behest, and I wanted to make sure that she did not report falsely on Harry's activities. In any case, last night Harry met privately with the Head of the Russian delegation, Elena Polyakova, and had this conversation."  
He put down the recorder and pressed the 'Play' button.

The blood drained from Ruth's face at the mention of Harry shooting the pregnant woman and her husband. It was unmistakably his voice on the recording, and she closed her eyes when that familiar voice said dully:  
_Well. You leave me no choice._  
And after a long pause:  
_I will do what you want._

Towers switched off the recorder, watching Ruth intently. A whole minute stretched by in which the only sound was their breathing. Finally, she asked softly, "Is it true? About the civilians?"  
"I don't know. He did come clean about the accidental killing of the German Minister at the Inquiry, but he never said anything about shooting two civilians to cover the whole thing up."  
He paused, before coming around and leaning against his desk in front of her.  
"Which is why I need you, Ruth. To find out what really happened back then, and to monitor Harry's every move now. We can't allow this assassination to happen."  
She stared at him incredulously. "You can't be serious. You can't possibly ask me to do this."  
Towers folded his arms decisively. "I can, and I am. You're the best, and I want you to do it."  
Ruth shook her head desperately. "No. You don't know what you're asking-"  
"Oh but I do, Ruth." His eyes drilled into hers. "He gave up a state secret to save you. Obviously he loves you, and we can use that."

Jumping up from the chair, she put some distance between them. "_Use_ that? My God-"  
She broke off when an awful thought occurred to her and she stared at Towers, horrified. "You're afraid Harry will try to silence anyone he suspects of delving into these events, and you think if you use me he may not have the stomach to go through with it. Oh my God."  
The Home Secretary was unapologetic. "You're as smart as Harry said you were, then. Yes, you're right; that's certainly part of it. But there is also another side to this. If the whole thing is a set-up by the Russians and Harry is innocent, I don't want to destroy him by asking someone who will run straight to Dolby. You will report directly to me, and you will not involve anyone else in this investigation."  
He closed the gap between them. "I don't want to believe this of Harry. But I won't take the chance that he may be desperate enough to go through with the assassination. So get back to the office, keep an eye on his activities, and start digging. The Royal wedding is in two weeks, so time is of the essence."

- 0 -

Harry stood in his office, staring out over the Grid, watching his officers go about their business as efficiently as ever. He was gratified to note that Erin was making an effort to get to know Dimitri and Tariq. At least their altercation seemed to have made some impression. She remained cold towards him, but he was not bothered by that. It wouldn't be the first time one of his officers hated his guts. Being liked has never been that important to him; all that mattered was that they respected him professionally and trusted that he had the best interests of the country at heart when making a decision.

Soon, of course, he realised, he would lose that. He rubbed at his pounding forehead, cursing himself for drinking so much once he got home the previous night. From long and painful experience he knew that in the end the alcohol solved nothing, and in fact didn't even make him feel better for a short time. But it was the thought of the loss of her regard that had stayed with him all the way home, and had grown with every mouthful of Scotch. And it was the first thing that had come to mind when he woke up on the sofa that morning, his mouth dry and his head pounding. When all was said and done, he knew that he could not survive losing her respect, to see her look at him with disappointment for the rest of his life. And knowing that he had shot those two people would probably be one disappointment too many; the thing that made her finally give up on him for good. His heart ached at the thought, and he knew there was no other avenue. It was time to think about an exit strategy.

The subject of his dark thoughts chose that moment to come through the door. Ruth hesitated for a second, her eyes flicking to his office. As soon as they found him, they slid away again and she hurried to her station, head ducked down. Harry felt an immediate stab of panic. Did she know already? Was his gut feeling that he'd been followed last night right after all? He had assumed that it was the Russians who had him under surveillance, but what if it were not? The pounding in his head increased. After taking a few deep breaths, he tried to think about the situation strategically. If he were the Russians, he would certainly keep his asset under a cover of surveillance to ensure he played ball and didn't double cross them. Polyakova was an experienced intelligence officer and he was convinced that she would have taken similar precautions. Perhaps it was his guilt that made him suspect that it was his own side following him. Either way, he couldn't take the chance that he was wrong. If Dolby should find out, he would be finished. So from that moment on he would implement Moscow Rules; in effect imagining himself operating in enemy territory, alone. He would trust no-one. The decision taken, his eyes swept over the Grid again and this time all he saw were potential enemy agents plotting his downfall. The thought saddened him and he turned away, rubbing his throbbing temples gingerly.

It was in that instance that Ruth glanced over at him. He looked alone and isolated in his glass tower, his expression almost desolate when he turned around and went back to his desk. Her heart went out to him and for a second she forgot about everything she was told that morning. She had retrieved the packet of pain tablets from her drawer before reality intruded and she froze. What should she do? She knew that she was supposed to act normally towards him, but what was normal between them these days? Would she have taken him the tablets yesterday and tried to find out what was wrong? What if he saw in her eyes that she didn't know whether to trust him? Would he guess that she knew, and what would that mean? Could he consider silencing her? She simply could not believe _that_of him. Harry had once told her that she was a born spook, and she knew that he was right and she should trust her instincts. The problem was, however, that Harry was the Grand Master of spooks. Normally he would be able to see right through her, but perhaps their recent history would muddy the waters. Any hesitation on her part could be ascribed to the latent personal tension between them, or at least that was the best she could hope for. Coming back to her original question, she pondered again what she would have done in this situation yesterday. Taking a deep breath she got up, the packet of tablets clutched in her hand, and went over to his office.

She walked in and placed the tablets on the desk in front of him.  
"You look in need of those," she said quietly, noting the surprise on his face at her display of compassion.  
Harry stared at the packet whilst his mind tried to work out what was going on. Was this normal behaviour? Or was she suspicious and this was an attempt to misdirect him? He looked up at her face and could only see concern there, and suddenly everything was too much.  
"Thanks," he croaked before taking two of the tablets and handing the rest back to her.

Ruth sat down in one of the chairs across his desk and looked at him steadily.  
"What's going on, Harry? It's unlike you to come to work with a hangover, especially two days in a row."  
She was clasping her hands tightly together to stop from fidgeting, worried that it would betray her nervousness. Inwardly she was praying that he would give her a perfectly logical explanation for the developments of the last two days. But he only shook his head and didn't say anything. She watched him for a few moments, then got up and walked out the door. He waited until she was well out of earshot before speaking softly.  
"Forgive me, Ruth."

- 0 -

Harry left the Grid for a meeting with the Americans and Ruth took the opportunity to start her investigation into the events of 6 November 1979. The German papers had widely covered the bombing of Minister Bergen's car, followed by long editorials on how the German authorities had underestimated the threat posed by the Red Army Faction. One or two papers reported the widow's suspicions that British Intelligence had been involved, but no-one in authority had seemed to give the allegations much credence. Although the death of Bergen had been a complete accident, it had paradoxically turned Operation Omega into a huge success. After the bombing the German authorities had come down hard on not only the Red Army Faction, but also other far-left groups to the extent that it severely dented the success of the Stasi in infiltrating these groups.

Whilst the bombing enjoyed front page coverage, Ruth had to go to the middle pages before she found any mention of the shooting of two German citizens in Berlin on the same day. The articles identified them as Karl and Liesl Heuer, calling their deaths an 'unexplained act of senseless violence'. No suspects were ever identified, and no motivation for the killing had been found. Ruth stared at the photo of the couple numbly. So it was most likely true; Harry had shot two civilians in cold blood to cover up his involvement in the bombing. And one of them had been a pregnant woman. Tears welled in her eyes at the thought of the man she so admired and respected perpetrating such an act. She buried her face in her hands and sat like that for a long time.

Eventually she pulled herself together and set about analysing the situation, trying to make sense of it. There was little doubt that Harry had shot the German couple. The question was why? They must have seen Harry and his team at the site of the bombing, and must have overheard something that made it clear that Harry had planned it. It made sense that they would have to be silenced. Even so, would the Harry she knew have killed them when there were other options available to ensure their silence? On the other hand, people change; Harry was a different person back then by all accounts, so perhaps his younger, harder version would have seen it as justifiable. It was no use trying to understand it; she should focus on the fact that he was apparently ashamed enough of the act in order to be blackmailed with it.

As Ruth went about her other work, half of her mind continued to turn the problem over. She believed that she knew the current Harry, and that the man she knew would not agree to kill the Russian President just to protect his reputation. But then again, he had seemed ill at ease in his own skin over the last few months, unhappy with what the Service was asking of him, so perhaps this was a last desperate attempt to get free of it all. Maybe the Russians were offering him a new life. She shook her head; no, Harry would not need any help to disappear and establish a new life in another country. The thought came to her that he might be trying to protect someone, in the same way he'd given up Albany to save her. But who? She herself was not in any danger. It hit her: Catherine. Harry would sell his soul to protect his daughter, of that she was sure.

She looked around the Grid. Erin was in the conference room with the Russians, so she wandered over to Dimitri and spoke softly to him.  
"I need you to look into something for me. Very quietly."  
The younger officer studied her face. "Sure. What's it about?"  
"There's a woman who wants to make an unofficial documentary about the Royal wedding; I think we should check her out before we allow her access. Let's find out if she's acting on her own, or whether someone's using her. We once had an instance where a radical group threatened a filmmaker and forced him to smuggle explosives past Security at another event, so I'd like to know whether anyone is showing a particular interest in this woman."  
Dimitri seemed to believe her. "Okay, what's her name?"  
"Catherine Townsend, here's her photo and address."  
"Hmm. Cute," he commented with a cheeky smile. "I take it my report only goes to you?"  
Ruth nodded and shamelessly played on his distrust of their new Section Chief. "Erin didn't want to waste resources on this, but it needs to be done."

She watched Dimitri disappear through the doors before picking up her phone and calling a contact in German Intelligence. After some polite chit-chat, she requested all available information about the deaths of the Heuer couple. If her contact was surprised by the request, he didn't express it. Over the years he had become used to sometimes receiving odd queries from the strange but likeable MI5 analyst. He promised to also check the Stasi files for her; the murders had happened close to the Wall and they had had that area under constant surveillance.

- 0 -

As Harry walked back to the office after his meeting with the Americans, he was preoccupied with the situation he found himself in. His head felt much better after drinking the tablets Ruth had given him and his thoughts automatically went to her. He hated the way they'd parted earlier, with him refusing to confide in her. The disappointment on her face had nearly broken his heart, but he could see nothing good coming of involving her directly in this mess. If the Russians became aware of any involvement from her she would be in danger. No, it was better this way, even though she would probably end up holding it against him. At least she would be alive to do so, and that was more important to him than his own fate. There was no other option; he would have to continue to put distance between them. When he reached Thames House and walked in through the front entrance, he felt like he was carrying the world on his shoulders.

Erin bore down on him as soon as he stepped onto the Grid.  
"Special Branch called; they're ready to do a walk-through of the security arrangements at Westminster Abbey. I can do it."  
Behind her, Harry caught Elena Polyakova's eye and there was a challenge in them.  
"No, I'll do it. Miss Polyakova, would you like to come?"  
Elena smiled with a hint of satisfaction, enjoying having Harry Pearce on a string.  
"Yes, I've always wanted to see the Abbey."  
She joined him and as they exited through the doors, Ruth's gaze followed them intently.

- 0 -

He left Elena to wander through the church on her own whilst he discussed the security precautions with the Special Branch representative. They examined seating arrangements and timetables, estimating the amount of manpower they would need to ensure that no-one slipped in unnoticed. Harry instinctively noted exactly where President Medvedev would sit, and despised himself for the way his mind automatically began to calculate ways in which he could be assassinated during the event.

Once they were done with the security arrangements, he found Elena contemplating the Tomb of the Unknown Warrior. He stood next to her and studied the Tomb in silence, finding it oddly appropriate in the circumstances.  
"Are you going to give me instructions on how it must be done?" he asked quietly.  
She looked amused. "The great Harry Pearce cannot come up with a plan of his own? That disappoints me."  
"I can live with your disappointment," he snapped bluntly. "I'm thinking that if I were in your position, I would want to tell my asset how it should be done. If left to his own devices, he might find a way to deceive you."  
Though his voice remained even there was a coldness underlying it that almost turned his words into a threat. He might be holding a losing hand, but he'd be damned if he would go down meekly.  
Elena laughed outright. "Your file said you were clever. You're right. I will give you instructions closer to the time. But don't worry; I'm not going to ask you to shoot him in the middle of a crowd. No, I think something more subtle would be appropriate. We are spies, after all, and I hear it might rain that day. Who knows, we might get to use the old poisoned umbrella trick once more."

She smiled, pleased with herself, before turning and walking away. Harry looked at the soldier's tomb once more before following her out. As he did so, he noticed the woman again, the same one that was outside the restaurant the previous evening. She was loitering across the street, pretending to read a paper. Was she Russian or English? He didn't know, and that worried him greatly. He felt increasingly that he was stumbling through a labyrinth, and that his chances of finding a way out of it were diminishing by the hour. And he could not turn to anyone for help. He would have to fight alone. Moscow Rules applied.

_tbc_


	4. Chapter 4

_6 November 1979, late evening  
East Berlin, KGB offices_

_Elena was putting together yet another report on the bombing of the German Minister's car earlier that day. The demands from Headquarters were becoming increasingly strident, but she had no new information to report, not really. At this stage all evidence pointed towards this being the work of the Red Army Faction, and were it not for Elena's doubts about their ability to pull an operation like this off with such military precision, she might have believed it. She was keeping one ear on the West German news reports on the radio, and among the German media there seemed to be a suspicion that British Intelligence was somehow involved. However, these suspicions were not backed by proof, and the German authorities would only act on facts. Already there was belligerent talk about a crackdown on the far left groups, and Elena knew this would seriously harm the Stasi and KGB's attempts to infiltrate West Germany._

Her thoughts were interrupted by the radio operator bursting through the door. She looked up expectantly, hoping that one of their agents in West Germany had reported in, but then she saw the expression on his face.  
"Comrade Polyakova, the Stasi has reported that two people have been shot in West Berlin one hour ago; a man and a pregnant woman."

Elena jerked awake. It took her a moment to realise that it had been a dream; that she wasn't in East Berlin, but in London, in a hotel close to Thames House. She stared up at the ceiling, thinking back to that day again. She should feel a sense of satisfaction in knowing her instincts had been right; that it hadn't been the RAF behind the bombing. Instead she felt only anger and irritation towards her former Stasi comrades. Had they shared all the information at their disposal with her back then, she would have had Harry Pearce in her sights years ago.  
"I have you now, you bastard," she murmured softly before getting up and starting her preparations for the day.

- 0 -

_Monday, 18 April 2011  
London, Thames House_

To her immense frustration, Ruth had to wait for the information from her German contact until after the weekend. As soon as the disk was delivered she took it into the forgery suite, away from prying eyes, where she opened it on a small hand-held device she had smuggled in for this purpose. Better not to leave any trace on her official computer, as she knew that Harry was more technologically savvy than most people gave him credit for. She was sure that he would be able to check what she'd been doing if he wanted to. It took her about ten minutes to speed-read through the information, and when she reached the end there was a note stating that the Stasi files would take a few more days to reach her. Ruth called her contact and informed him that she would pick it up at the German embassy, and that there was no need to send it on to Thames House for her.

Once she was finished, she slipped the device back into her pocket and thought about what she'd read. The couple had moved to Berlin only a month before they had been shot and was not well known to their neighbours, who all proclaimed them to be 'quiet, but very nice.' On the face of it they appeared to be a normal German couple, but something about them bothered Ruth. She wasn't sure, however, whether that was because there really was something off about them, or whether she desperately wanted there to be something suspicious. This uncertainty made her realise that she could not trust her instincts as much as she normally would; her actions and decisions would have to be based purely on the facts available to her. She could not afford to be blinded by her feelings towards Harry.

Her thoughts went back over the last few days. They had been awful; truly the worst she had ever experienced since starting to work for MI5. She had hated every moment, as she observed Harry's comings and goings and reported regularly to Towers. The situation reminded her of her initial 'double agent' role when she had first started in Harry's section and had reported their activities to Amanda Roach in the Office of the Exchequer. Whilst she'd found the whole double agent thing rather exciting back then, Ruth reflected soberly that she did not find it exciting this time around. Not at all. It was appalling, and heart-rending, and she despised herself for doing it. She had to fight down the urge to corner Harry and confess all every time she saw him. Deep down she still couldn't believe he would do this, and she wanted to beg him to make her understand, to explain his actions. Perhaps she would have thrown caution to the wind and done it if there weren't such a chasm between them at present. But they were farther apart than ever, and she could sense Harry withdrawing more with each day that passed. The rational part of her mind told her that this was another indication of his guilt. It prevented her from acting on her impulse to confront him and conversely strengthened her determination to get to the truth of her own volition.

As she exited the forgery suite, she ran into Dimitri.  
"I looked into Catherine Townsend, like you asked. I sat on her all weekend, and I am one hundred percent sure that she is clear. No-one is watching her, and she isn't sneaking around having clandestine meetings. She is exactly what she claims to be; a documentary maker."  
This seemed to be bad news to Ruth, which perplexed Dimitri. He did not get a chance to ask as she walked off swiftly, throwing a distracted thank you over her shoulder.

- 0 -

Harry looked up as Ruth walked past his office. She seemed troubled and once again it gave him pause. Although her work remained of the same high standard it had always been, he had discerned a distracted mood from her the last few days. It also saddened him that she hadn't seemed to notice that he'd been purposefully withdrawing from one-on-one contact with her. Perhaps it was time to let her go, to give up on the dream of a future with her. Soon that might not be an option in any case, and he scolded himself for getting distracted by thoughts of her. He had to focus on what had to be done now. It was time to start planning a strategy for Medvedev. He was not going to wait for the Russians to prescribe the method for him; he would plan ahead. The problem was the surveillance he was under. It was imperative that the Russians shouldn't find out about his plans. There was only one way to achieve this: he would have to revert to the old school methods.

As per usual he got home after eight in the evening. He greeted Scarlet and pottered around in the kitchen, talking to the little dog as was his wont.  
"Damn, Scarlet. We have no bread. Fancy a walk down to the shop, hmm?"  
Scarlet barked excitedly as Harry clipped the lead to her collar.  
"Okay," he said patiently, "we'll go by the park first."  
They covered the two blocks to the park at a brisk pace, and Harry was aware of a shadow following him at a discreet distance. He turned into the park and made for his usual bench. As he settled on it, he admonished Scarlet, "Just for a little while, all right?" before unleashing her. She bounded off into the darkness and Harry sat back. Although it was early Spring the evenings were still quite cold, and soon his nose started running. He rummaged in his coat pocket for his handkerchief but dropped it on the ground accidentally. Cursing under his breath he reached down, feeling for it in the dark. A few seconds later he straightened up and wiped his nose, then wiped something off his right hand glove carefully, before deciding that Scarlet had had long enough.

"Scarlet!" he called as he got up and went after her. She was scrabbling after something in the underbrush, barking excitedly.  
"Scarlet! Come girl," he called again and rounded the clump of bushes she was under, but she refused to budge. In the end he was forced to get on his haunches, reach under the bush and haul her out by her collar. Berating her in stern tones, he put the leash back on and dragged her off towards the street. They went home via the shop, where Harry bought a loaf of bread and a treat for Scarlet and paid Melvin with a ten pound note. By the time he closed his front door behind him again, the shadow was still there, following him, watching him go through the same routine as he had done on many other nights.

- 0 -

_Tuesday, 19 April 2011  
London, park near Harry's house_

At the same time as Harry was ensconced in a fractious meeting with the Home Secretary, the Foreign Office, MI6 and Elena Polyakova to discuss British/Russian cooperation in the Middle East, Mavis Brown took the dog for its habitual morning walk in the local park. As she ambled along the well-kept footpath she noticed a cleaner moving along, picking up trash. Being of a friendly nature, she approached him.  
"Morning, love. I thought you normally cleaned this park on Mondays and Thursdays."  
The man straightened up and smiled tentatively. "You're right, but the schedules have been adapted to accommodate the Easter holidays."  
"Ah, I see." Her blue eyes observed him keenly from a wrinkled face. She thought that his accent sounded a bit posh for a cleaner, but who knew what people had to resort to in order to earn a living in these difficult economic times? So she nodded and let the dog drag her off. Looking back she noticed him bend down to pick up an empty crisps packet lying next to the foot of a bench, on which she had earlier noticed a single arrow in yellow chalk.

Once the old lady was out of sight, the cleaner straightened up and methodically moved towards a clump of bushes nearby, picking up trash as he went. When he reached the bushes he squatted down and peered underneath, before clucking his tongue in annoyance.  
"Bloody smokers! Throwing their trash everywhere…" As he crawled underneath the bush to retrieve an empty cigarette pack wedged between two branches, a passerby guiltily picked up the stub he had just thrown on the ground before walking on. The cleaner dumped the carton in his refuse bag and moved back along the path he had come. He sat down on the same bench and bent down to fasten his shoelace, before working his way towards the gate.

Twenty minutes later Mavis returned along the path. She sat down on the bench the cleaner had vacated earlier, and noticed that there was now a second yellow chalk line drawn low down on the foot. She rested on the bench for a few minutes, idly rubbing her shoe against its foot, before getting up and calling to the dog.  
"Scarlet! Time to go love."  
As they moved off, the yellow marks were no longer visible.

- 0 -

_Wednesday, 20 April 2011  
London, German Embassy_

Ruth left work a little earlier than usual, citing a dentist appointment that she had actually made but which she had no intention of keeping. She took a circuitous route to the German embassy, all the while acknowledging to herself that these precautions were an attempt to allay her own fears and was unlikely to fool anyone wishing to follow her. Especially Harry, but he had been in a meeting with Erin when she slipped out, so hopefully he was otherwise engaged. At last she found herself in front of the embassy, and announced her arrival to reception. She was asked to wait and hovered in the foyer for a few minutes before the local BND representative came down to meet her. He informed her that they were in the process of digitising all the Stasi files, and luckily for her they had completed those for the time period she was interested in. However, the files were extensive and contained a large amount of surveillance photos, so they had put it on an external hard drive for her. Ruth thanked him and tucked the device into her vast handbag before heading for home.

Resisting the urge to start on it the minute she walked through the door, she made herself dinner first before settling down with her laptop and a large glass of wine. She wasn't sure what she was looking for, which made the process rather difficult. After flicking through the reports randomly, she decided to start with written reports for the day of 6 November 1979. There were hundreds, and she scanned through them cursorily until she found those pertaining to both the bombing of Minister Bergen and the shooting of the two German civilians. It gave her a perverse sense of satisfaction that in neither case could the Stasi prove any involvement by British Intelligence, or had any idea about Harry specifically being there. However, that didn't bring her any further in her investigation.

With a sigh she opened the folder containing the Stasi surveillance photos. They were organised in batches, according to the week in which they had been taken. Ruth opened the relevant file and noticed to her dismay that it contained thousands of images, and that you had to open each of them to find the date they were taken on. It would take her days to work through them all. She took a deep breath and started at the beginning.

- 0 -

_Friday, 22 April 2011  
London, Ruth's house_

She finally found it on Friday evening. The Stasi habitually monitored the comings and goings at West Berlin's main rail station, and had captured the Heuer couple as they left the station. In the background, his eyes firmly fixed on the two people in front of him, was Harry. The next photo focused on him, and Ruth stared at his young face for long seconds. Who was he back then? Was he the same principled man that she had got to know? These questions only raised others. What went through a person's mind when they were about to kill an innocent human being in cold blood? Did Harry even consider other alternatives as he followed them? There was another photo showing Harry following the couple down the street once they'd left the station. This must have been what the Russian woman had shown him. Then, repressing her heart screaming at her not to do it, she picked up the phone and called Towers.

- 0 -

She met the Home Secretary at his house. He took her into the study and she laid out the information she was able to gather, culminating in the Stasi surveillance photos.  
"Dear God." Towers tossed the photos back on the desk and turned towards the window. "So he really did it."  
"I don't think there's any question, no." It killed Ruth to say it.  
"Which means he's probably going ahead with the Medvedev assassination," the Home Secretary said glumly.  
Ruth said nothing, and Towers studied her face for a moment.  
"You don't agree?" he challenged, and Ruth looked away.  
"I don't know what to think anymore," she admitted.  
Towers was not amused. "We can't proceed on feelings here, Ruth. The evidence seems damningly clear."  
"I know that! I just can't reconcile the evidence with the man I know and lo-" She stopped, realising what she was about to say.

The Home Secretary regarded her more sympathetically. "I'm sorry. This must be hard."  
She almost laughed at the massive understatement, before finding herself making a final plea. "Please think about it, Home Secretary. Harry has never done anything purely to protect himself or his reputation. With the Albany file, for instance, he immediately confessed to you that he had given it to Lucas North. Is this the actions of a man that would assassinate another Head of State purely to save himself?"  
Towers sank into his chair and stared at the photos scattered across his desk. "I don't see that we have any choice. We have to work on the worst case scenario. Something that Harry taught me incidentally. So, what are our options? Do we bring Harry in? Prevent Medvedev from attending the wedding? Arrest the whole bloody FSB delegation?"

Ruth thought about it, then slowly shook her head. "We can't do any of those things. It will only alert the FSB that we're onto them and they will have time to make alternative arrangements. We have to let it play out and stop the assassination on the day of the wedding."  
The Home Secretary allowed himself a small, satisfied smile. "I'm sure that's what Harry would have said, had the circumstances been different."

- 0 -

_Monday, 25 April 2011  
London, the Grid_

Harry stood in his office, watching Elena and Erin discuss an operation to bring some of the Libyan opposition figures to London for discussions. He had peremptorily delegated this task to Erin, both as a way for her to get experience in planning and running an operation from beginning to end, as well as to put some distance between him and the Russian woman. Polyakova had not been impressed by this move but had no standing on which to question him in front of his officers, and had to accept it grudgingly. The ringing of his phone interrupted his thoughts, and as he answered he saw Ruth coming through the doors, looking wan and tired. Harry wondered whether she was coming down with something and felt a surge of sympathy, before remembering that he was supposed to keep his distance. However, all of these thoughts swiftly fled from his mind as he listened to the person at the other end. He was able not to betray his emotions over the phone only through a supreme effort, and sat down slowly behind his desk, never taking his eyes off Ruth. As his gaze burned into her back, he terminated the call and immediately made another one.  
"Ruth, can you come to my office?"  
She answered in the affirmative, and he tracked her every move as she walked over. His focus never left her, even after she came to a stop in front of his desk.

When he spoke, his voice was calm, but it was the deadly calm tone that Ruth had come to know could not mean anything good.  
"I just had a call from the local BND representative. He wanted to know whether you found the information he'd provided useful."

They stared at each other, and there was a hint of panic and fear in both pairs of eyes.

_tbc_


	5. Chapter 5

_Monday, 25 April 2011  
London, Thames House_

As they continued to stare at each other, both were frantically trying to figure out how much the other knew. Out of the corner of his eye Harry saw Elena observing their interaction with interest. His chest constricted with fear for Ruth and it made him appear even more forbidding. Ruth was shaken by his expression, and wondered whether the BND man had told Harry about the full extent of her inquiry. Harry did not look away for one second, and she knew she would have to lie as never before if she were to get out of this situation without arousing his suspicion.  
"Did he indicate whether they have more information for me?" she asked, hoping to gauge what exactly the man had told Harry.  
"No," he responded shortly. "What information did you ask him for, and why don't I know anything about it?"  
Despite the suppressed anger in Harry's voice, Ruth was relieved. His question led her to think that the BND representative had not gone into details, so she might be able to lie her way out of this.  
"I'm sorry, but I wanted to double check the backgrounds of some German friends of Kate Middleton's who are invited to the wedding. You're so busy with the Russians at the moment," and here she struggled briefly to keep the accusation out of her voice, "that I didn't want to waste your time with such trivialities."  
His eyes narrowed slightly and he studied her expression carefully, but could find no indication that she was lying.  
"I see," he relented, his voice a little less harsh. "Next time keep me informed so that I don't look like an idiot when talking to the local representatives, all right?"  
She nodded contritely and got up to leave, doing her best to hide her relief.

As soon as her back was turned, Harry's face softened. His BND contact had told him exactly what information she had requested. She had lied to him, and she had done it beautifully. Knowing that he should be angry about that, he was instead filled with a sense of pride in her abilities. He should not have doubted that she would put all the pieces of the puzzle together. She only needed one more, and it was in the information she had asked for. Surely it was only a matter of time before she found it. There was hope, after all, that the plan he had put into place on that dark beach would come to fruition. The thought led to a sudden desire to re-establish their bond.

"Ruth," his voice was gentle as he called her back, and he waited until she turned around to face him. "Are you all right? You're not coming down with something?"  
She was surprised at his sudden interest after the distance he'd so religiously kept of late, and it made her suspicious. But when she looked into his face he wore an expression of earnest concern, and she didn't doubt that the query was genuine. It touched her, and it was on the tip of her tongue to unburden herself before common sense prevailed and she lied, yet again.  
"I'm fine. Perhaps a bit tired, but nothing more serious than that." She paused, feeling the need to reach out to him in some way. "Thanks for asking, though."  
He nodded. "I'm glad. I'm sorry about the chaos and that we haven't had time to talk of late; it's the damn Russians demanding so much of me. Hopefully it will all be over soon."  
The last sentence was added as an afterthought but it sounded as though Harry had little confidence in the statement, and Ruth couldn't stop herself from trying to make him feel better.  
"We'll get through this. We always do, don't we?"  
"I hope so," he said with a small smile, and watched her as she walked back to her station. For the first time since the whole business started, he felt a tinge of hope.

- 0 -

The following three days were a blur of frenzied activity as they tried to cover all possible angles regarding the security of the Royal wedding. Ruth and a small army of analysts co-opted from other sections spent their time doing security checks on all the guests, servants and even the clergy that would be involved. Erin was also pulled off the Middle East operation temporarily to help out. The tight schedule did not allow for playing politics, and in fact forced the Section to work together as a team for the first time since Erin's arrival. The new Section Chief's regard for her colleagues grew as time went on and they handled everything thrown at them with aplomb. Harry noted all this with satisfaction, deciding that she might yet turn into a good Section Chief. On a personal level he had hoped that the focus on the wedding would keep Polyakova out of his hair, but she somehow persuaded the Foreign Office that her team could assist with the security arrangements and promised to take care of vetting any Russians likely to attend. This bought her access to many of the meetings Harry had to go to.

Towers was furious when he found out, and immediately instructed Ruth to double-check all clearances done by the Russians. She did so, but could find nothing suspicious about the Russian wedding delegation. The only thing that was slightly out of the ordinary was that the Archbishop of Canterbury had asked permission to invite a representative of the Russian Orthodox church to attend, and would give him a tour of Westminster Abbey the day before the wedding.

From Thursday afternoon onwards Elena made sure to keep close to Harry, only letting him out of her sight when he had to attend a meeting to which she was not invited. She felt confident that their surveillance on the British spook had been sufficient to prevent him from making alternative plans, and that he would be forced to go ahead with the assassination the following day. One thing concerned her, though; there was little evidence in Harry Pearce's demeanour that his life would soon be ruined. Surely he knew there was no way that he would be able to continue his career once the assassination had taken place? She was aware that he had precious else to look forward to; he didn't seem to have any sort of personal life. He should be devastated by what was happening. She _wanted_ him to be devastated.

- 0 -

_Thursday, 28 April 2011, late evening  
London, the Grid_

It was after ten when Harry sent everyone home for a few hours' sleep, keeping only a skeleton staff to monitor developments. As the others left, Elena followed him back to his office and sank into one of the visitor's chairs uninvited. He moved to his drinks tray and poured himself a generous measure of Ardbeg, pointedly not offering the Russian woman anything. Whilst he settled into his chair and sipped the Scotch, Elena observed him closely and could for the first time see the toll the last few weeks had taken on the man in front of her. He looked exhausted, tense. Resigned to his fate. She twisted the knife.  
"Tomorrow you will poison Medvedev for us, using a syringe that will be provided to you once we're at the church."  
He lifted dark, unreadable eyes to appraise her. "Once I inject him, is he going to drop dead in the middle of the ceremony?"  
The thought seemed to amuse Elena. "No, no. We have no desire to ruin such a happy occasion. He will begin to feel ill, but there will be enough time for him to leave and go to his hotel, and to die there."

After taking another sip, Harry rolled the glass in his hand, watching the amber liquid slosh around. "Aren't you worried that they will have time to save him?"  
"There is no antidote, Harry. He will die a slow, agonising death at the hand of an eminent British spy."  
Her expression held no sympathy for either Medvedev or for Harry.  
He polished off the Scotch before responding. "You're going to throw me to the wolves, then? No lies about how you will protect me afterwards; set me up somewhere comfortable?" Smirking into the empty glass, he added, "I don't merit a nice dacha by the sea?"  
She was not amused, he could tell. "No. No dacha for you, nice or otherwise. Because we both know you would never agree to come over to us. We will give you time to disappear, and then we will tell the world how Medvedev died. I am confident that you need no help in disappearing. People like you always have an escape plan in place, don't you?"  
He had no doubt that she was lying, and that they aimed to kill him as soon as he had done their dirty work for them, but still he played the game. "Oh, I have a plan," he replied with more confidence than he felt. "Who will give me the syringe at the church?"  
"I will."  
He cocked his head to one side and frowned. "How will you get it past the security?"  
"Don't worry about that." Elena stood up and moved to the door, then added with a hint of malice, "Get some rest, Harry. You have a big day tomorrow."  
As she walked out he fought the urge to throw the glass at the wall. He sat motionless for a few minutes, before getting up wearily and collecting his coat. Outside his office he stood for a bit, watching the activity on the Grid with a wistful expression, before moving through the doors. Perhaps for the last time.

- 0 -

_Ruth's flat_

She was supposed to be snatching a few hours' sleep, but instead she was following a hunch. There was a sense of desperation in her actions, as this was a last ditch attempt to find something that would let her help Harry. Ruth had already decided that if her hunch proved to be wrong, she would go to Harry's house early the next morning and tell him that they knew everything. Hopefully that would remove any incentive he had to go through with the assassination. And then she would help him disappear, if that was what he wanted. She would not stand by and watch the Russians ruin him. Crouched over her computer, she flicked through the Stasi surveillance photos for the day the Heuers had moved to Berlin. She concentrated on the images taken at border crossing points between East and West Berlin, and specifically on the foot traffic coming through the Oberbaumbrücke pedestrian crossing. It was in the early morning hours that she found them. Karl and Liesl Heuer had crossed over from East Berlin. Trying to contain her excitement, she made a call.

- 0 -

_Friday, 29 April 2011, Royal wedding day  
London, The Ritz Hotel_

Russian President Dmitry Medvedev had just stepped out of the shower when there was a knock at his door. His security officer opened it to find a waiter outside, with the President's breakfast. He waved the man in after checking under all the silver dishes, and left the waiter to set up the dining table in the large sitting room. None of the guards noticed the waiter emptying a small vial over the scrambled eggs with a deft sleight of hand. By the time Medvedev sat down at the table, the waiter was long gone.

About half an hour later, the waiter, seated on a bench outside the hotel, intercepted a call from Medvedev's suite requesting that the hotel doctor should attend to the Russian President. He allowed himself a small smile of triumph before placing a call of his own. When the other person answered, he spoke only a few words.  
"It's a glorious day for it."

- 0 -

_Westminster Abbey_

Harry moved through the early arrivals at the church with ease, looking quite at home among the distinguished guests in his immaculate morning suit. Dimitri and Erin were stationed outside, keeping an eye on the arrivals and the crowd. They had all enjoyed dressing up for the occasion, and did their best to blend into the background. Harry had assigned Ruth to keep an eye on the diplomatic contingent. She had stormed in late, looking beautiful and elegant, and he had forgotten to admonish her for her tardiness. There was something in her eyes, a look of excitement, and she tried to catch him on his own for a private word, but circumstances would not allow it. Elena stuck to Harry like a woman fearing that her attractive date would abandon her for someone else given half a chance, and did not allow him any opportunity to speak to anyone privately.

"The Home Sec has arrived," Dimitri notified them.  
Harry started moving towards the door, but Elena pulled him back.  
"Where do you think you're going?"  
A flash of irritation crossed his face. "To greet the Home Secretary. It's protocol. You don't want to arouse suspicion, do you?"  
She let him go, but made sure to stay within earshot as he approached the politician.  
"Ah, Harry. You're looking smart," Towers greeted with a beaming smile. His demeanour lifted Harry's spirits.  
"So do you."  
"Yes, well, it's good to get some mileage out of the old fine feathers."  
The Home Secretary's gaze flicked over Harry's shoulder before he continued casually, enunciating the words carefully. "It's a glorious day for it, don't you think?"  
Harry took in the grey skies beyond Towers with a flicker of a smile. "Yes, glad the English weather played along."  
After nodding sagely, the Home Secretary leaned towards his Counter Terrorism Head and murmured confidentially, "You know, Harry, if everything works out well today, I think I might be able to make the Inquiry go away permanently."  
The two men looked at each other for a few seconds more, before Harry nodded and walked back into the church.

"What is this fascination you English have with the weather?" grumbled Elena.  
"It's tradition," Harry shrugged, before glancing around distractedly. "This whole day is about tradition." He noticed Ruth hovering in the background, keeping an eye on them, looking anxious.  
"Elena, the diplomats will be arriving soon. Where's the syringe?"  
With a secretive smile, she guided him down a passage to their right. "It's in the Chapter House."  
Harry frowned. "That part of the church is not open to the public. How did you- Ah."  
She looked at him questioningly.  
"Gifts from foreign emissaries are usually kept in the Chapter House. The representative from the Russian Orthodox Church brought it in for you, didn't he." It was a statement, not a question, and Elena smiled in acknowledgement.  
"Congratulations. You are a smart man."  
She led him into a small room with narrow, high-set stained windows. It was filled with all kinds of wooden chests, religious relics and other trinkets.

She moved straight to a large intricately carved wooden chest and opened it. While she retrieved the syringe from underneath some old looking scrolls, Harry's thoughts went back to the first time he'd encountered her. He had been in the process of identifying possible Sugarhorse assets and had taken notice of her swift progress in the KGB. This had led him to inquire about her from one of his established assets. The other woman had laughed before telling Harry to forget about recruiting Elena Polyakova. "Her husband was killed in the line of duty. She is fiercely loyal in his memory," his asset had told him.

Harry came back to the present and broke the silence, ignoring the apprehension churning his stomach.  
"Elena. Medvedev is not coming to the wedding."  
The quiet certainty in his voice made her straighten up, and she swung around, holding out the syringe.  
"How do you know?"  
"A number of the guests at the hotel came down with gastro. Apparently something went wrong with the scrambled eggs this morning."  
She knew without having to check with her colleagues that he was telling the truth. He was telling the truth because he had organised it. It made her very, very angry.  
"You bastard! We watched your every move. How?"  
"A bit of old school tradecraft and the help of some friends." He paused. "It's over, Elena."

She laughed her unpleasant laugh. "It's over?! It has just begun, you idiot." Taking her mobile from her purse, she thrust it at him. "I am going to destroy your life with one phone call. The information about how you killed that innocent couple is ready to be distributed to your superiors and every news channel."  
"No, you're not going to make that call," Harry said.  
She stared at him, at his calm certainty, and a nagging suspicion began to take root in her mind.  
Harry could see that she was beginning to figure it out, and nodded.  
"I know."  
"Know what?" she asked, but some of the fight had gone out of her.  
"I know who Karl and Liesl Heuer really were," he said as he took a step closer to her.  
Elena shook her head. "I don't know what you mean. They were an innocent German couple that you shot down in cold blood."  
"Elena," Harry said evenly, "they were not. They were-"  
"Yevgeni Polyakov and Katya Borodin," a third voice said behind them.

Harry turned around to find Ruth standing there, her eyes, bright and triumphant and... _relieved_, on him. They never wavered as she spoke once more.  
"They were undercover KGB officers, and Yevgeni was your husband, Elena."

_tbc_


	6. Chapter 6

_Friday, 29 April 2011, Royal wedding day  
London, Westminster Abbey_

Ruth's words floated around the room and had contrasting impacts on the two people squared off in front of her. Elena seemed to fold in on herself; her face contorted by grief and hatred for the man who had killed her husband all those years ago. Harry, on the other hand, felt a tremendous weight lift from his shoulders. Although he knew this did not mean that everything would be back to normal between Ruth and him, at least she knew that he had not cold-heartedly shot two innocent civilians to save his own skin. Following soon on these feelings was immense admiration for Ruth for figuring it all out, and satisfaction in the knowledge that his faith in staking his life, career and freedom on her doing so had been justified.

Elena's eyes jumped between Ruth and Harry, calculating whether she could play them off against each other to make her escape. Since her arrival in London she had picked up on the tension between them, as well as the rumours doing the rounds that the senior man had in fact given away that state secret to save this woman's life. It was only the distance between the two that had dissuaded her from threatening the analyst to put more pressure on Pearce. Now, however, it was abundantly clear that she had miscalculated. The adoration and pride on his face as he looked at Ruth showed that in reality his feelings for her were as strong as ever. She could see the strategy he had played to outwit her begin to take shape, now that she was aware that he had known who she was all along. Despite the intense hatred she held towards the English spook, she felt a stab of admiration for the way he had out-thought her.

Still holding out the syringe towards Harry threateningly, she said, "Congratulations, Pearce. It seems you were one step ahead of me the whole time. How did you find out about Yevgeni and Katya?"  
"They were sloppy. Civilians would have stayed at the scene to gawk, and would have given statements to the police right there. They had no reason to catch a train to Berlin and try to cross the Wall back into the East to report what they'd seen."  
Harry kept his voice and face expressionless as he continued. "And they were heading towards the Oberbaumbrücke, which was known as a favoured crossing point for the KGB."  
He paused, then concluded more softly, "They also spoke Russian to each other on the train."

Ruth was listening carefully and felt the last of her fears melt away. The one thing she had still harboured doubts about was whether he had known that the couple were KGB officers when he had killed them, or whether that was something he had found out later.  
Harry added, "A few years later I was able to make enquiries and learnt their identities. I also found out that Yevgeni had been married, and that his wife's name was Elena."  
This measured explanation angered the Russian woman. "You feel no remorse for what you did? Killing my husband? What about Katya and her unborn child; did that child deserve to die?!"  
Visions of throwing up in a dank Berlin alley swam to the front of his mind and for a second he was back there, alone, filled with terror and self loathing. The slightest twitch of his mouth gave Harry away, but only those who knew him really well spotted it.  
"No, Elena. I feel no remorse. They were not civilians, and they presented a severe threat to the interests of my country, which I am sworn to defend. Katya chose to bring her child into it, not me." He paused for a moment to collect himself; waiting for the feeling of nausea to subside.  
"Besides, I happen to know that their instructions were to determine whether foreign influences were driving the spate of bombings in Germany, and if so, to eliminate those influences. Your husband and Katya would have killed me if I hadn't got to them first, is that not so?"

Elena chose to ignore the question. "So what happens now?"  
Mindful that he was facing a woman with nothing left to lose, Harry kept a careful eye on the syringe in her hand.  
"You belong to us. If you don't cooperate, I'm sure your President would be interested to know that his own Security Service had plotted his assassination."  
He could see in her eyes that she knew she was cornered, and was contemplating going for him. Imperceptibly he shifted his balance to the balls of his feet, ready to parry any thrust she made with the poisonous syringe.  
Ruth, who had quietly observed the interaction between Harry and the Russian woman, stepped forward. "Put down the syringe, Elena. You can't take us both down with it. There's no way out."  
A harsh laugh burst from Elena's lips. "There's only one of you I really want to take down-"  
"You won't get near him," Dimitri said from the doorway, his gun levelled steadily at her head. In that moment, Ruth was eternally grateful that she had had the foresight to drag the field officer along as back-up.

Elena's eyes flicked to the new arrival before returning to Harry, who stood far enough from her to prevent her from reaching him with one lunge. The young officer was right; she would not get to the object of her hatred before being killed herself. Reluctantly she lowered the syringe, letting it slide from her hand onto the floor. Harry moved forward and kicked it away from her. The two antagonists stood almost toe to toe, looking at each other. In Elena's eyes Harry saw pure hatred, and the remnants of the grief she still felt for the loss of her husband thirty years after his death. Never taking his eyes off her, he instructed Dimitri, "Get her out of here quietly, then get back to your post as quickly as humanly possible."  
The field officer moved into the room and took her by the arm. As she was led past him, Elena smiled. To Harry it looked more like a grimace. There was malice behind that smile, as well as a hint of triumph.  
"Goodbye, Pearce," she practically spat at him before Dimitri manhandled her out of the door.

Ruth let out a sigh of relief, but Harry continued to stare after Elena with a frown.  
"Harry-"  
"Wait. Let me think a moment."  
She stayed quiet, watching him quizzically, trying to work out what was bothering him. Harry's head snapped round to the wooden chest at the same time as Ruth's eyes widened.  
"Why did she say goodbye to you?" Ruth queried, her voice laced with concern.  
"Precisely." He moved towards the chest and opened it carefully, explaining over his shoulder.  
"This chest was presented to the Abbey as a gift by the representative of the Russian Orthodox church. He brought in the syringe for the FSB in it."  
Stepping closer, Ruth peered at its contents from behind Harry.  
"You think he brought in something else for them?"  
He didn't answer, but began to remove the contents one by one, with great care. There was a false bottom more than halfway up. Harry looked round at Ruth. Both held their breath as he carefully lifted the false bottom, exposing a huge bomb. The timer was set for 11:15, right in the middle of the Royal wedding.  
"Christ," Harry muttered before reaching for his mobile.

Ruth glanced at her watch. As she did so they heard the choir strike up in the Abbey. The bride had arrived. They had fifteen minutes.  
"Malcolm, are you still at the hotel?"  
She looked up in surprise at Harry's words. _Malcolm_?  
"Can you get to the Abbey in the next ten minutes?"  
The frustration on his face told Ruth that the answer was negative.  
"Okay. Ruth is going to send you an image of a bomb from her mobile. We have fifteen, strike that, thirteen minutes. Call me back with some advice."  
Even before he'd hung up Ruth was circling the bomb with her mobile, capturing as much detail as possible and sending it to Malcolm. The tension hung thick in the room as they waited silently for his call. She had so many questions, but she knew that this was not the time to ask them. Instead her eyes stayed on Harry, seeking assurance from his calmness. He was bending over the bomb, trying to figure out how to defuse it. The irony of the situation did not escape him; it was, after all, a bomb that had started it all.

He glanced up at Ruth to find her concerned gaze on him, and gave her a reassuring smile. Just then his mobile rang shrilly and both of them jumped at the sound. They looked at each other with sheepish smiles as Harry answered.  
"I think I know how you can defuse it, but I'm not a hundred percent certain," Malcolm said immediately.  
Harry glanced at the clock again.

Seven minutes left.

"Your best guess will have to do. I'm putting you on speaker phone."  
Before he could do so Malcolm hastened to add, "You'll need something to cut the wires with."  
Handing the mobile to Ruth, Harry told her, "We need something to cut the wires with."  
Both of them began to scrabble around the room until Ruth suddenly remembered. "I saw a small kitchen next door."  
Harry sprinted out whilst she nervously watched the timer count down.

Five minutes left.

She could hear the trumpets and organ from inside the Abbey, providing a muted soundtrack to their crisis. Absurdly she wondered whether she was going to die without seeing Kate Middleton's dress. Or before she and Harry had a chance to talk.

He ran back into the room, brandishing a blunt looking vegetable knife. At her sceptical look he commented, "It's the sharpest thing in there."  
When he moved past her she grabbed his arm. There was so little time, and so much to say.  
"Harry," she said urgently, squeezing his arm and looking imploringly into his eyes. For once in their long and complicated acquaintance she did not hide her feelings from him.  
He hesitated for a moment before smiling softly and nodding at her.  
"Ruth," he returned in a gentle voice, and everything she knew he felt for her was audible in the one word.  
Then he was crouching next to the wooden chest, waiting for the instructions.

Three minutes left.

"_Find the connection between the green and black wires. It should be near where the timer is pressed into the plastic explosives._"  
Harry carefully traced the two wires until he found the joint as Ruth kept an anxious eye on the clock.  
"Got it."  
"_I suspect that's the failsafe. You'll have to cut the black wire as close as possible to the connection._"  
He started sawing at the black wire with the blunt blade, cursing freely as he struggled to get it to bite.  
"Two minutes," Ruth said quietly.  
With a final effort the wire gave way.  
"Black wire cut," Harry confirmed as he wiped the sweat from his eyes.  
"_Now you have to cut the red wire, and simultaneously pull the green wire from the plastic explosive._"  
"Christ Malcolm, I might as well be working with a bloody spoon here. Have you any idea how difficult it is to predict when the wire will break?!"  
Ruth laid a hand on Harry's shoulder. "I'll pull the green wire. Just tell me when."  
He smiled tensely at her, realising that there was no-one else he wanted with him in these moments. Both paused for a fraction of a second when they heard the first strands of _God Save the Queen_ echoing from the Abbey.  
"Let's hope so," Harry mumbled before he put the knife to the red wire and began to saw at it. Ruth's fingers were clamped around the green wire, ready to snatch it out when he gave the word.

Thirty seconds left.

He redoubled his efforts. The knife got through the casing around the wire and started to cut through the woven copper strands.

Fifteen seconds left.

The wire began to give. He was down to a few strands still holding together. Harry folded them over the knife and readied himself for an almighty yank.

Five seconds left.

His eyes met Ruth's, and they both took a deep breath.  
"Now," Harry commanded, yanking the blade through the wire at the same time as Ruth pulled the green wire from the explosive.

The red wire mercifully snapped, and their eyes flew to the timer.

The clock had stopped at two seconds.

The two spooks stared at the figures on the digital display as if fearing that it would start up again. It didn't.

In the background, the last lines of the anthem died away.

Silence descended on the small room, only to be broken by Malcolm's worried voice.  
"Hello? Harry? Ruth?"  
Harry remembered to breathe. "It worked, Malcolm. We're all right."  
He closed the chest with a dull thud and promptly sat down on the lid, flicking his morning coat out of the way. "I think I can presume to speak for Her Majesty the Queen when I thank you for saving this auspicious occasion from ruin. You have our eternal gratitude."  
The relief in his voice was unmistakable. "I'll speak to you a little later."  
After disconnecting the call his eyes lifted to Ruth. She took a step in his direction and he wordlessly shifted aside so that she could join him on the chest. They sat next to each other, shoulders touching, contemplating the absurdness of their lives. During one of the most romantic and important happenings of the year, they were sat on a bomb in a dusty back chamber of the church, decked out in their finery. Harry wondered whether things could possibly get any stranger for them.

Apparently Ruth's thoughts had gone along the same lines because she suddenly started to laugh, and Harry soon joined her. They were both aware that their mirth was in part caused by the release of the stress of the last few weeks, and soon sobered.  
"Malcolm?" Ruth queried, looking at Harry.  
"It's a long story."  
"Well, we have time." She did not add, _now that we've disarmed the huge bomb_. Neither of them needed reminding how close they'd come to death.  
Instead of answering the question Harry said instead, "Thanks for your help, Ruth. I couldn't have done it without you. None of it."  
After a moment's pause, he voiced the greatest fear he'd lived with since the start of it all, the thought that had threatened to destroy him.  
"I feared that you would give up on me after finding out about the pregnant woman."  
Ruth studied her hands, the uncertainty in his voice not lost on her. In spite of his use of the past tense, he obviously still harboured those fears.  
"I never gave up on you," she admitted after a moment.  
He smiled, the uncertainty replaced with relief. "Towers told me, but I needed to hear it for myself."  
"Towers?" Ruth frowned. "You were in contact with him?"  
Harry nodded. "We managed a few cryptic conversations."  
She stared at him and he could tell that she was struggling to make sense of it all. It was time to explain everything to her.

"I couldn't confide in you. I had no choice, Ruth. I'm truly sorry about that. This was about personal revenge for Elena, and I could not take the risk that she find out how important you are to me. If she had, she would almost certainly have tried to use you against me."  
His eyes were on her, begging her to understand his reasoning.  
"I had no way of knowing whether the Russians were already monitoring my every move. I know they've had me under surveillance since the FSB delegation arrived; chances are they'd done so from the moment they decided to come after me. Towers is the only one with which I have a standing protocol in place that allows me to communicate with him without it being picked up. I activated that as soon as I learnt that Polyakova was coming to London. It allowed me to meet with him the night before the Russians arrived and tell him what had happened in Berlin."  
"How did the Russians find out it was you?"  
"The Inquiry, I suppose. They must have got hold of the transcripts, and Elena put two and two together. She came to London with the express aim of avenging her husband's death."  
Speaking from experience, he added, "When you nurse a grudge for such a long time, the mere death of your enemy is no longer enough. You want to see them suffer. Since my career is the only meaningful thing I have left, I suspected that she would try to force me to do something that would destroy it. Of course, I had no idea what shape it would take, but it had to be big. I figured as long as I played along it would prevent the Russians from making alternative arrangements to achieve their objective. So I told Towers to get you involved to investigate me."

Her eyes swivelled to him, a frown lodged between them, prompting him to explain further. "You're the only person I trusted to figure it all out. If, for some reason, I could not communicate with anyone, or the Russians were able to ensnare me to the extent that I would have been forced to go through with whatever they had planned, someone needed to stop it. The country's safety may have depended on that. It was the only way out I could see."  
Ruth sat silently, trying to process all that he'd said. "So _you_ gave the Home Secretary the recording of your first private meeting with Elena? Towers didn't have you under surveillance as he'd claimed?"  
"Yes, I gave it to him, and no, he never had me under surveillance. For a while I worried that Dolby might have, but obviously he didn't, otherwise I would have been in prison by now. It was the Russian tail that I picked up on."  
A thought occurred to her. "Why couldn't you ask him to tell me the truth? Let me help you that way?"  
Harry sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. "Because I needed to convince Polyakova that we had drifted apart. If you had known everything from the start, she would have picked up on something, and would have known the depth of my feelings for you. But this way, there was genuine mistrust and suspicion between us, and she bought it. I refuse to have you put in danger again on my behalf," he stated adamantly, before looking slightly embarrassed at the outburst and looking at his shoes. The left one had acquired a small scuff mark on the toe, he noted forlornly.

Ruth studied him carefully. "And Malcolm?" she prodded.  
"I asked him to remove Medvedev from the playing board for today. In case the Russians had a back-up plan."  
"And how did you contact _him_?"  
"Through the blatant exploitation of my dog and the elderly woman who takes him for regular walks." Harry smiled to himself, sure that he would at some point get an earful from Malcolm for having to pick up trash in a park. He briefly relayed how he had used Scarlet's walk to plant the cigarette pack with the instructions for Malcolm, had slipped Melvin a note to call Malcolm and tell him to clear the dead-drop, and had asked Mavis to check that it was done and then remove all traces.  
She was still puzzled. "And how did you know he had succeeded in preventing Medvedev from turning up?"  
"He provided Towers with a word code about the weather, which Towers then relayed to me when he arrived."

He turned his head to look at Ruth and was disheartened by her expression. She appeared distracted, her face closed to him, and he couldn't blame her. He thought about apologising again then decided against it. What was the use? There was nothing he could do to change what had happened. And perhaps he deserved losing her respect; perhaps it was retribution for shooting the pregnant woman. The thought that this might be the end of everything he had wished for for so long, spurred him into an admission.  
"I still dream about it," he said. "The woman."  
Ruth looked at him, at the regret on his face. "It had to be done, but I- I can't make peace with it. Jane was pregnant with Catherine at that time, you know."  
He didn't say it, but she knew what he was thinking; that his daughter was a constant reminder of what he'd done. Her heart went out to him.  
"Yes, it had to be done," she said softly, offering understanding, if not quite absolution.

In the silence that followed her statement, they heard the first notes of the _Jerusalem_ hymn being sung. Harry looked over at her, and she pretended not to see the extra wetness in his eyes, or to hear the hoarse note in his voice when he spoke.  
"You look absolutely beautiful today, Ruth. Very elegant."  
She smiled broadly, pleased that he'd noticed.  
"And you look distinguished and handsome," she returned the compliment, not aware that her voice had taken on a more intimate timbre.  
He turned his head away again, not trusting himself to read her correctly any more. Too many times he had thought that she was giving him encouragement, only to be proven wrong.  
"Thanks," he responded, the sadness seeping through his voice. It was as though her compliment had reminded him of everything there could have been between them, but which he now believed to be lost.

Ruth, in turn, thought of all the things she had wanted to say to him when they had been seconds from death; how in those moments her heart had been filled with the deep love she felt for this man. And despite everything that had happened, back in Berlin and over the last two weeks, he was still that same man, she realised. None of the things she had learnt about him had changed that.

"Harry." She gently turned his face towards her, letting him see her love for him in her eyes before leaning forward and kissing him. His arms went around her instantly, and they got lost in each other as the beautiful music swelled around them and filled the small room. The last time they had kissed they were about to be torn apart by the vagaries of the job they had chosen to do. This time, their kiss held the promise of a shared future, and the music took their hearts along as it swirled joyously out of the Abbey and into the sky, before dispersing in the atmosphere and drifting over the green and pleasant land they had both sacrificed so much for.

_Fin_


End file.
